A Beginning, Of Sorts
by Finding-Emo
Summary: In another world, another story begins. AU, sort of but not really following on from a previous story of mine.


_The story, in which one life ends and another begins._

The funeral, such as it was, was a wholly dismal affair. A thin crowd of mourners straggled around the dull brown coffin as it was lowered into the ground, most faking their sorrow, but some not even bothering. The professor had not been well liked in his lifetime, and even now it was over, many of his colleagues simply couldn't bring themselves to care. Even the weather refused to be suitably grim, the sun stubbornly shining through gaps in the cloud in defiance of the traditional funerary rain.

However, there were three young women attending who did, in fact, care; not because they had liked the man, no, they had more reason to hate him than any of the others. The only reason his passing mattered to them was that him and his research funds had kept the three fed and sheltered. The three stood together in a loose huddle, other 'mourners' sloping away past them when they thought they could get away with it.

The short, stocky redhead was the first to speak. "Oi, Loki," she drawled, "any thoughts on what you're gonna do now?"

Loki, the tallest of the three, brushed a stubborn flick of blonde hair out of her eyes and said, "You mean living-wise? No idea."

The last girl frowned worriedly up at Loki. "Do you want to come live with Annis and me? We don't mind, really…"

Annis's expression suggested that she disagreed on this point, but only gave a grudgingly acquiescing grunt. Waving a hand in the vague direction of the shortest one, Loki shook her head. "No, it's cool, I'll work something out on my own. You and Annis go be happy or whatever you wanna do, I'm outta here."

And so she left.

"You think she's gonna be okay?" asked the short one, her hand finding its way to her mouth as it always did.

The redhead slapped her not unkindly on the back. "Ehn, you know how she is. Just forget about it, she'll be right. Now, I dunno 'bout you, Galley, but I really can't be fucked dealing with this fake-ass funeral. Wanna go home?"

Galley quietly took Annis's hand and said softly, "'kay."

* * *

A while later, Loki, having gathered her few possessions, what she could carry of her clothes and a tent, drove the professor's dusty old car out past the city limits, through the foothills that edged the south side of the city, and off the road into the forest. She parked the car, removed all her things from the boot and released the handbrake, walking at a brisk pace away from the road as the car rolled slowly down the slope it was in and into the river.

She stayed in the forest for some time, how long she couldn't be sure. Minutes and hours blended together as she adjusted to life alone, days, weeks, maybe even months passing, she didn't know; she'd never been much for keeping track of the date anyway. Time passed as usual in the city too, and as it did, everyone who was aware of her existence slowly forgot about her. Galley felt guilty, they'd lived under the professor's roof together for two years after all, but Annis was quick to discard her memories, and Galley eventually followed her lead. Tax collectors and meter men came to the professor's house, but Annis dealt with them, and in time, the name Loki no longer meant anything in the world's eyes.

And so, when Loki finally decided she couldn't stand going bush any longer, it was not the familiar landscape of the city she stepped out of the forest into, but a whole other world.

She stepped slowly, suspiciously across the rock beach (beach! Beach! Since when had the forest been anywhere near any kind of beach?), and began to make her way toward the port that was just visible at the end of the beach. The enormity of her situation creeped nastily into Loki's mind as she reached the piers. Galleons like the one she could see hadn't existed outside of museums for over a century, and styles of dress from different decades clashed among the people milling around the decks. She trotted cautiously up a set of stairs some thoughtful artisan had made and onto the street.

Cars, that was another thing, Loki couldn't see a single car on the road. There were a couple of horse-drawn carriages around, but there wasn't a single motor vehicle in sight. Some of the people looked fairly strange, too; just looking around, she could see a man who had to be at least ten feet tall, another with a few too many elbows, and a woman who couldn't possibly be a mermaid, surely not… But indeed, she was, and hand in hand with a six-armed man at that. Loki realized that she was staring, and quickly turned away. She had to find out where she was. She sat on a barrel, ignoring its owner's protests, and wondered how she could find out. She could always ask, she thought, but that would probably make her look a bit odd… then again, it wasn't like she didn't already. She swallowed her pride, got up and walked over to a cloth merchant's stall.

"Excuse me!" she called to get his attention, "where am I?"

He gave her an odd look and said, "New Amsterdam, where else?"

Loki sighed, fighting back her embarrasment. "No, I meant which world…?"

His eyebrows hit the ceiling. He pulled his dark glasses off and looked her up and down incredulously. "Good God, woman, don't tell me you're from the aboveworld!"

"…Aboveworld?"

The merchant's mouth dropped open with surprise. "You _are _from the aboveworld! My God, been a while… okay, lemme explain; right now, you're in the un-world. It's basically where everything from the aboveworld that gets lost, broken or forgotten ends up, including people. Er, it's a bit different here than there. You plan on going out to sea?"

Loki shook her head and said, "Not really, no. Why?"

He nodded. "Okay, that's good. You won't have to worry as much about pirates, then."

"_Pirates_?"

"Yeah, pirates. Like Blackbeard, Redbeard, you know? Not Somali-style." He scratched his head. "Er, I'm not so great at explaining stuff, I just sell clothes mostly. You should probably go talk to Sergeant Smoker at the police station or Blueno at the bar. Those guys are way better at dealing with that kinda thing. Okay?"

Loki nodded. "Yes, thank you."

She walked away, leaving the merchant to his sales. The un-world, huh? Well, she may as well explore while she was at it…

Loki's stomach gurgled, and she realized she was hungry. She saw a fruit stall out the corner of her eye. She headed in it's general direction, and as she passed it, she casually palmed a bit of fruit without looking at it and kept going as if she had done nothing wrong, like Annis had taken great pains to teach her a long time ago. She looked at the fruit she had picked up and rolled her eyes. Even the fruit was weird here. Since when did pears have spirals on them? Loki took a bite regardless, and soon regretted it. It wasn't that it tasted bad, more that it had no taste whatsoever. The texture was the main cause of it, half-floury, half-sludgy, like an apple starting to go bad. Loki spat out her mouthful, but some of the fruit's flesh lingered in between her teeth.

Meanwhile, a commotion had started up behind her. She turned with vague interest to see the owner of the fruit stall howling at his battered assistant.

"-you little wretch, do you have any idea how much those cost? Do you have any _idea_? And you've gone and let it get stolen! I oughta-"

Loki shrugged. Probably nothing to do with her. Still, she felt a pang of guilt, so she moved quickly away.

* * *

A street or two away, Marco was being dragged along the road by Thatch.

"Come on, come on," urged Thatch, "I swear that guy had a Devil Fruit!"

Marco rolled his eyes. "Right, like it matters. What are you so excited for? It's not like you need it…"

"No-o," Thatch admitted, "but! It's still cool. Besides, what if it's the Dark-Dark Fruit and we let someone else get it? Can you imagine how gutted Teach would be?"

Marco grunted and followed him, dragging his feet a bit. They rounded the corner and saw the fruit stall owner shouting and wailing for all he was worth, as a lone police officer took information from his battered assistant.

Thatch, ever the oblivious, tugged on the stall owner's sleeve and said, "Say, mister, can I ask about that Devil Fruit you had this morning?"

The stall owner looked up at him disbelievingly and burst into tears. He wailed, "Gone! Gone! I let the boy look after it for a moment and what happens? Gone!"

"Oh, shit!" yelped Thatch. "Come on, Marco, we've got a fruit to find!"

"Will you relax, Thatch? It's probably just something stupid like the Soap-Soap Fruit. There's no need to worry."

Thatch looked at him incredulously. "But what if it _is_? Can you imagine Teach's little face?"

Marco did, and immediately tried not to. Thatch grabbed his arm insistently. "Come _on_!"

"I tell you what… let's split up. It'll increase our chances of finding it."

Thatch grinned. "Yeah, good idea!"

And he bolted into the crowd, yelling like a crazy person.

Marco shook his head, turned away, and walked casually towards the port. Most thieves with the luck of nabbing a Devil Fruit would want to go to another town and sell it, and the safest way out would be on a ship. So he made his way towards the distant masts…

…and Loki walked around a corner and straight into him.

He sighed irritably, "Watch where you're going, eh?"

She gave him a dirty look and went to cross the road, but he spotted the pear-like fruit in her hand and grabbed her by the arm. "Hey, what've you got there?"

Loki looked at it and said, a little guiltily, "…just a weird pear. It's not very good, you wouldn't want it. Why…?"

He pulled it out of her hand – "Hey!" – and looked a bit closer. He saw the spirals that sprawled across its surface, and his heart sank. It was a Devil Fruit, all right. "Oh, bugger."

But he didn't have any time to worry, because Thatch rocketed out of the crowd towards the two of them. "Marco! Did you find it…?"

He looked at what Marco held. He let out a long, slow sigh. "Oh, thank you God, it's just the Split-Split Fruit, I was shitting bricks for a second there. Who's the girl, Marco?"

Marco was about to reply, but Loki interrupted. "What are you guys _doing_? What are you even talking about?"

Thatch looked at Marco. "You do it."

"Ugh…" Marco looked Loki up and down, and sighed yet again. "Look, do you want to get a drink with us? This might take a while to explain."

Loki frowned suspiciously, but eventually said, "Whatever, not like I've got anywhere better to go anyway…"

Thatch clapped his hands once and said happily, "Okay, let's go!"

And he and Marco led Loki off to the nearest coffee shop, Thatch chattering happily the whole way.

* * *

Just noticed that my characterization of Thatch seems to bounce around a bit depending on whose POV I'm writing from… hurm. (sulkyface) As always, Thatch and Marco belong to the one and only Eiichiro Oda, and Loki belongs to good ol' Kemface. Annis and Galley used to be hers too, but I stole them so they're my lezzer babies now. Any questions~?

(WORD COUNT SANS AUTHOR'S NOTE AND PREFACEY THINGY IS 1903 IMMA DIE OVER HERE~~)

(p.s. formatting I hate your guts)


End file.
